Deal With The Devil
by hsm753
Summary: Undertaker wants revenge. Triple H feels greed. What happens when the two men are at odds in a world beyond their understanding?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I wrote the first half of this story two years ago, but never published it on here or had a chance to finish it until now. Since today is WrestleMania, I decided to upload the first few chapters that I have completed to see where this one goes. I haven't forgotten about my other stories and I'll update them when I can. This story takes place around the Triple H/Undertaker storyline from WrestleMania 28, but this version has its own story while including a couple of elements from the original stroyline. Enjoy and reviews are welcome.**

Chapter 1

The dark presence almost killed the man who stood before the other. Truth was, the man himself was dead, and keeping his dead presence was what he needed to keep his dignity alive. That was the only thing he wanted alive. Awakened. He wanted his remaining life, yet he had none to life by, to be the last thing that he, and possibly anyone else who knew him, how little there was of those people, to remember it.

He smiled faintly at the man before him, ready to kill him. But he couldn't do that now. He was waiting for the right moment, when no one was expecting it. He stepped forward, but it was only a few inches from the other man. He looked the man in the eyes and demanded what was his own dignity. Souls had never prepared dignity among him, and this man was no exception. This man was bound to die since it was his choice in the first place. He, that man, was given time and space, but, no, it didn't want to wait.

"The tables have turned," The Undertaker said, his grin almost overcoming his true emotions. "You have this moment, and now, it is mine. Give me what is mine."

Triple H took a long glance at the Deadman before him, watching, waiting, but nothing came out of it. He, the man, claimed he needed this, but he really wasn't pleasing himself. Triple H decided, and his thoughts were clear.

_No._

He couldn't do it. He wouldn't do it. He just wont see what had bloomed into a reality close on his company in an instant. It was like closing a door, but another one would be open to the future.

_No._

There would be no future without this man. He couldn't bear to see it come true. His place was with his own, and Triple H was in his own place. A place safer than most had been credited for.

"What do you say?" Undertaker asked, his patience running thinner than his blood. If he had any.

Triple H grinned, his ego tested once more. This man definitely wasn't giving up. He walked towards the man and looked into his eyes, pale, lifeless, and a mirror into the darkest soul, as he carefully said his last words.

"No."

Undertaker pulled back from the stare, and his dignity was shattered again. He, of all of those he wanted to kill, was giving back what he created. He felt his lifeless heart beat, then, it stopped. Only one beat was in his lifeless form, and that beat was the sign of defeat as he knew it. Undertaker grinned again, and tipped his hat, walking away from the dark and blue surroundings. Walking into nowhere.

That's how he came to be here. Out of nowhere.

He managed to turn around, and saw the pathetic man that he had not yet convinced stand there looking at him, angrily but steady.

_Kill him. It's your only option. No. Don't kill him. You need that moment. Kill him. Kill him now. No._

The thoughts tortured Undertaker, and he quickly turned his head back into the darkness, Triple H's presence flying past him as his head turned, and walked off into that darkness. Quicker than what was years ago. How many? He had begun to lost count, but it didn't matter anymore. It was a less than fortunate year last time, and this time, he wanted no different.

Triple H saw Undertaker walk away, and his presence turned into a shadow that blended in with the pitch darkness. He caught his breath when he thought about the options. He knew Undertaker wanted his divine moment, but it was already gone. He had turned into a maniac, if you would say, to have this moment, and Triple H, turning against what he had become all of his years in this place, wasn't going to let Undertaker go. Not like this. Not out of the sight of millions, especially those who respected him. Not so many had that respect anymore. He stood out among the rest of the people, and he always made them suffer, whether it was inside or outside of the ring. It took Triple H a few moments to collect his thoughts, and, quicker than what could have been, left to find a way out of this place. It was dark, bluish lights in the distance didn't help, and the place was closing in on him.

He managed to look over in the darkness, not telling where he was going or what he was looking at, and quickly found a small light in the doorway. It was the brightest light since the black and blue lights didn't matter much. He could hear things move around him, but he wasn't sure what to make of them. He didn't want to hear the sounds, whatever they were, and somehow was walking slower than the pace of before. He decided, with the best inquiry, to turn and look back in the direction that the other man had gone. He wanted to suddenly forget it, but, something urged him. Not only his thoughts, but the sounds. The piercing sounds that made the dark room more and more mysterious.

Triple H managed to look over his shoulder. He no longer saw the dark; it was lighter than usual and the Undertaker was standing a few feet from him, as if he hadn't moved a muscle at all. The sounds, again, entered the room. And Triple H could hear the sounds clearly. They were people. Screaming. Yelling. Cheering. No. Booing. He saw the people, protected by barricades, looking at him, cheering and booing at the same time. Some fans laughed when he looked at them. Some booed and jeered at him when his eyes gazed across the room. This big place wasn't as big as he had thought.

Undertaker smiled as he saw Triple H looking at him, embracing the people's chants and screams, how little he hated them, and his dignity started to pick up the pace again. Yet, ever so suddenly, he remained in his standing position. He had only walked a few mere inches, looking to Triple H like a long walk away. Undertaker had planned to do that. To see what was it like for Triple H to know the feeling of guilt. But, he could tell Triple H was feeling none of that now. He saw the man begin to grin.

Undertaker grinned himself.

_Welcome to my mind games._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Undertaker stared at the many clippings on the walls. He wanted to not think about them, but, he really had no choice in the matter; he was still angry and his soul was in pain. His dignity demolished, and he seemed willing to feed off of it to get what he needed the most. He wanted the moment to happen, but that man wouldn't see it any different from a game. It was his ego, after all. A game.

He looked around, and saw the many clippings in the only light from two small candles. He lit them himself, but matches were not his friend. Not since his first feeling of death. He began to rub his fingertips against the clippings the rough and smooth exteriors not any help to his soul. He had seen these images so many times with his lifeless eyes that they stayed in his head from the moments he arose from his ever-endless slumber. He smirked at the picture of Triple H using his own weapon against him, but nothing was the same to him when he was about to reach his personal weapon of choice. The smirk faded at the endless pictures of him bruised and tangled in a feel with the floor. He saw the men that were helping him, and it killed him inside that they would bother. He wasn't under power. The power faded, and nothing could ever replace it. His dignity was his power. He needed this chance now, but why would that man not give him the chance he needed?

Undertaker knew not the answer, but slowly descended his hat from his head, his long and wet locks of dark and grimacing hair flowing down from the impact. He looked at the hat, the tears and pain that he had shed throughout the years keeping this hat, this memory he didn't want to fad. If that's what that man thought of this situation, he was a fool. Undertaker felt the sharp edges of the hat in his big hands, and continued to feel the smooth exterior that was now becoming hard and tearing in places that would soon be forever in place. Forgiveness for a hat was pitiful.

He slowly descended the hat on to one of the candles, and saw the exterior not touched one bit by the hot flames. It was invisible to the fire, and it remained a better memory than most. He knew what to do, and his anger and shame was driving him crazy. He quickly saw what was the razor. He knew he was foolish to do such a thing, but he couldn't remember the last time he had ever managed to do this sort of thing. He wanted his moment, and if this was the only way to remove his shame and anger, so be it.

He grabbed a full hand of hair and quickly pulled the razor out into the light.

* * *

_Triple H saw the Undertaker, grimacing, deadly, mysterious, looking into a grave as he shoveled the dirt on to a pile away from him. He wouldn't look at the man standing just a few feet away, but Triple H knew he could sense him. It wasn't like Undertaker had given up on everything. Triple H took deep breaths as he realized he was deep in the parts of nowhere. He tried to look around, but the grey and fog-filled area just didn't help his aching head. His head was hurting since he came here, and he didn't know why. He finally managed to meet the surroundings around him, and they were nothing compared to what was normally a regular grave site. A graveyard surrounded the two beings._

_A feeling of hate suddenly arose, but a feeling of fear was brought towards Triple H. He had no idea what was to become of him, but he seemed fearful and unsteady for the first time around the man shoveling dirt in front of him, leaving dirt all around the other graves. He didn't care to look at the graves all around him, he just wanted a way out of this place. But Undertaker never was the type you could ask for directions. Triple H sighed and tried to walk away, but he felt planted towards the ground, his legs and feet betraying him, and he didn't realize his attire had been worn until he looked down to check the problem. He saw, with his own eyes, the dirt and grim around him, in front of him, and sinking him into the ground. The dirt was up to his kneecaps._

_"What do you think you want to prove?!" Triple H yelled, trying to pull free._

_Undertaker looked up, and placed the shovel in the palm of his hands. He quickly walked towards the other man. No. He was running. A charging yell had come from his throat, and he pulled along with the shovel in-hand. Triple H tried hard to free himself, and he felt himself sinking under, until his eyes caught the sledgehammer in his right hand. He saw the Undertaker's face, and the hair of the man was mere sparkles of shimmers in the dark night, and his appearance caused Triple H himself to almost feel his dignity break. He lifted the sledgehammer as the Undertaker had charged to kill him._

* * *

Light. Darkness was still around, but a light had come on. Triple H opened his eyes, his breath heavy, his eyes almost wide, but he kept calm. The light was from the nightstand, and he had left it on without realizing it. He had almost forgotten he had been in the light of the room for some time. He sighed and caught himself. He slowly sat up in his bed, groaning from the times he had fought for the sport and fun of his job, and quickly reached for his Bible. Why he got it first, he didn't know. But he couldn't go to sleep knowing he was fully awake at the same time. He flipped through the thick pages and saw the words in groups in front of him. He quickly had his eyes on the verses, but read none to no real potential. He sighed, and quickly let the Bible close. What was the point? He didn't know how he felt about anything anymore.

He fell back on to the bed just as he heard his phone ring. He didn't want to answer it. Not now, not tonight. His dreams were starting to get worse, and he wanted to be left alone. He closed his eyes, but his phone kept ringing. It echoed in his ears. Pounding at his aching head. He finally heard the last ring and quickly felt sleep coming back to him. The nightstand kept the darkness out.

* * *

On the other side of town, Shawn Michaels hung his head as he put his phone back on the receiver. He hadn't heard from his best friend in weeks, and now it began to worry him. Sure, he knew what was happening to his best friend, but at the same time he knew his friend could be in trouble. He tried calling him again, but his fingertips only touched the phone. He decided to let the phone rest for the night.

"Give him time," Shawn told himself. "He'll come around when he gets ready."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Groans were the only sounds he could make, and the sounds were killing his dead spirit.

What time had he stopped groaning? He couldn't remember. All he could think of was his image. That lasting image he hated so much. He couldn't help but think: Why? Why those people bothered to help him. Why those people publish such things that couldn't go nowhere but on ink and paper? Why his spirit wouldn't give him what he wanted? No. Triple H couldn't give him what he wanted. Give him what he needed so much.

He walked in the dense, cold darkness alone. He felt the stings of his roots come back to him since the night before. His mind was sudden and strong, and he didn't want his memories to go to waste. Not now. Not while he can still be given a chance. He needed his own soul to be rebuilt, but not so much. His memories had begun to kill him and as well leave him. He felt the cold, damp darkness and felt secure. Safe from redemption. But he still needed it. Darkness couldn't save him forever.

_Forever? Was this done?_

_Of course it is. Kill him. Kill the man who couldn't kill you._

There had been so many men, that Undertaker couldn't think of how many at the time. The roots felt softer than what had been the day before.

_Did you take off that much? What a pity._

* * *

Adjusting his shirt on the balance board of the sink, Triple H had begun to try to clear his head. He couldn't stand the dreams. They bothered him so much last night that the same dream happened over and over until Triple H couldn't sleep anymore. He couldn't deal with it anymore. But something else kept his true feelings hid, and that was what his heart had been for. To keep his mind and body in the right place. He intended to do what he could to ignore the dreams, but it ate away at him. Undertaker was getting to him for once since he came back. Triple H, despite his heavy thoughts, turned the faucet and heard the soft rumbling, his spirit heavy as his breath, and quickly saw the water coming from the drain. He quickly, yet softly, placed his hands under the water and let it gather in the palm of his hands. He looked at it for a few seconds, realizing he wasn't breathing normally than he used to, and gently splashed the water on his face without hesitation. He was over the sink, collecting himself from the horrific dream that repeated itself, and then he opened his eyes and looked into the mirror.

Blood was on his face. Dark blood that didn't move but stayed where it hooked on to Triple H's pores. Triple H felt the room shift into a cold stance, and he quickly went back to the water...but it was red, too. Triple H gasped, but didn't have the strength to let it out full force. The dream seemed to have weakened him, both inside and out. He quickly grabbed a nearby towel and buried his face in it, trying to get the blood off, wanting it to go away, not realizing he was only buried in more blood from the splashes.

Another ringing sound, similar to last night, came to his ears. But he didn't want to answer it. Not now. Not since last night.

"Let me live, Undertaker," Triple H moaned into the towel, feeling his breath off his pants. "Leave me be. I will...I will not fight you. Never."

Triple H heard the ringing again. This time, he almost wanted to smother himself in the towel. He did want to die. Get away from everything. But he wasn't going anywhere now, so there was no use for any thoughts of the kind.

The ringing stopped, and Triple H didn't realize he had found a way to get away. Sitting on the floor.

* * *

He wanted to give him time, but it wasn't going to get any better if he kept calling and no one answered. He had tried, and kept trying, but it worried him. Something was wrong.

"What's wrong with you, Hunter?" Shawn whispered to himself as he lowered the phone.

Shawn had tried calling, as he did before, but it seemed hopeless. Something inside Shawn didn't feel right. Something was happening, and Shawn was going to find out what it was, whether it would kill him or not.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Help...help..." Triple H had said for what seemed like hours. He was sitting here, on the floor, and he didn't want to be helped, no matter how much he called for it.

His face was still buried in the towel, and he kept hearing sounds outside of his protective surroundings. He wanted to be alone, and he didn't want to be awake in this nightmare. He wanted to leave this world, but nothing would come from it. Just grief. He wanted to get away and fall asleep, but every time he closed his eyes, Undertaker stood there, waiting for a chance to cast another dream.

"Help...help..."

He didn't know how long it had been, and he wanted to stay in this place. This room, how little it was, was nothing but a gap, and he wanted to stay within the towel. He opened his eyes, the blood was still there, not drying up of what could have been. It was permanent in the man's, and maybe Undertaker's, eyes. He closed them, but Undertaker appeared, and he opened them again, the blood in view again, and repeat. It was an ongoing cycle that felt as if it couldn't end.

His arms were getting sore, but he didn't care. His legs were behind him, but, again, what did it matter? He was trapped in a world be wanted to get out of and a world he wanted to leave. He didn't want to look up from the safe haven he was in. He didn't want the surroundings to turn into blood, too.

How is that possible? Welcome to my mind games.

"Help...help..."

He didn't know why he was calling out. No one could hear him, and no one could have seen him. No one could see him, anyway. Then, from out of nowhere, a voice, shrill, concerned, cold, spoke up:

"God, Hunter! What are you doing on the floor like that?! Why is the water running over the sink?!"

Triple H didn't know what to make of the voice, but he knew who it was. His mind was trying to trick him, just as Undertaker had the day before, and he could remember the feeling. And the feeling was killing him now as this feeling was. He moaned into the towel, ignoring everything.

"Hunter! Hunter!"

"Help..."

Shawn had stopped the water in the sink from its flow. It was pouring down the cabinets and on the floor. He stepped lightly towards his friend, who didn't seem to notice him. He saw Triple H, pitiful looking, without a shirt, somewhat wet, holding a white towel in his hands like a statue and moaning into it words that couldn't be made out.

"Hunter," Shawn said, trying to pull back the towel.

"Help..."

Shawn could hear the words now, and could feel the cold water on his kneecaps. It was close to his friend's bare feet, which was behind the shaking, scared guy.

"Hunter, talk to me. What happened?"

Triple H heard the words of Shawn, but didn't want to talk. He felt safer that way. He had to stay in this haven, or it would be the end of him. The end of him seeing right. Straight, for that matter. Everything would be blood. He was scared to look up or over. He didn't want to do it.

"Hunter, I'm here for you," Shawn said, as Triple H flinched away, actually moving this time. "Tell me what the hell's going on."

"Help..."

"I'll help you."

Shawn didn't know what else to say; his words weren't helping at all, and his best friend was sitting there like a scolded dog. He wanted to help, but what words could bring this man, strong and easy-going, back to reality, or wherever he wanted to be. Triple H felt the walls close down around him, as if something was holding him back from getting out of the safe haven and he gently peeked over the lines of the towel, seeing a hint of white now than what he saw before. Perhaps it was over.

"Hunter," Shawn said, placing a hand on Triple H's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Triple H could now see his best friend. His blue eyes no longer feeling easy, but staggering as if something was bothering him.

"S-Shawn...get away from the blood..."

Shawn looked around him, seeing nothing more than the water all on the ground and still pouring out from the sink. He was now confused.

"What blood? There's no blood here, just water."

"The water i-is full of b-b-blood..."

Triple H, despite looking at his friend and his confused looks, didn't feel safe anymore. He wanted to hide back in the towel. He saw Shawn's eyes look over at the sink, then he stood up, water splashing around his boots, and he looked into the sink. He looked back at his friend.

"There's no blood, Hunter. I don't see any blood."

"T-There's blood. T-Turn the water on."

"No, Hunter, this place is already full as it is. What were you doing?"

Shawn knew he wasn't going to give up, and Triple H could see that too. He wanted his friend to understand his pain, and, now, it seemed he couldn't understand. He caught himself shaking as he continued to peek over the towel, the trimming still white. The blood was gone.

"Get up, Hunter. Let's try to work this out."

Triple H's breath froze. "No, Shawn, I'm s-staying here. I-It's safer."

"Hunter, please," Shawn's voice became worried. "Whatever's going on you need to tell me."

Triple H peeked over the towel again, this time looking at the floor, covered in water and sloshing around at every movement. He slowly put the towel in his lap and breathed deeply. Shawn extended his hand and Hunter looked at him, but slowly lifted his hand and pulled himself up. Shawn sighed and looked around the room.

"We're gonna need a lot of towels."

Shawn walked towards a cabinet and opened it, but nothing was inside. Triple H slowly walked into the main room and sat down on the bed, his head in his hands, trying to forget all that he saw.

* * *

In the shadows, a dark figure stood, smirking as he watched the man he envied suffer. The figure looked around to the other man coming out of the small bathroom, water following him. Hearts grew heavy and pulses eased.

_What pulse? You have no life left in you. Nothing but Hell and torture for eternity._

_"_Let me have this moment." He whispered.

As he cowered back into the thickening glimpses of darkness, the words came close to the figure's mind.

_No._

The figure growled and slowly stepped into the eternal Hell. He walked into nothing, but the faint light became a new power to him. He would find his fate. His dead heart had no beat. His head made the beats breathe.

_The mind is a terrible thing to fear. Fear death. It's all you have left._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Even as the smoke cleared, everything was lit with shadows.

Triple H walked deeper into the pool of thick, black darkness as he stared into the unknown. His eyes embraced the objects of small graves, that were partly chipped in the corners, as well as the white puffs of blinding smoke, making him cough loud. His body quivered and shook with every step. The path continued without an end. He wanted to stop, but had to move on.

"Just end this." He whispered.

_I will._

Triple H looked over and noticed the graves had suddenly became rows of dark shadows in the distance. He faintly smiled and looked ahead of him, the smoke and darkness ahead thickening deeper into the unknown trees.

Suddenly, a faint howl echoed in the distance, sending Triple H into a desperate struggle to stop walking and look away. The wild howls continued as Triple H paused his legs, but they wouldn't budge from moving along the path. He grunted and continued to stop, but his legs moved on with his feet pulling and dragging his body with them. He looked around and released the grip on his legs, feeling sharp pains go up his spine. He winced from the sudden pain, small screams escaping his throat as his neck began to burn. He tried to lift his hands, but they wouldn't move. He looked ahead of him, the path dimmer as the forest darkened with the smoke. He tried to move his feet, but sharp pains entered. He screamed from the pain, stabbing him deeper as he entered a small pit.

Outside, the pit was big and round, easy for anyone to fit. Inside, an open hole engulfed in red flames.

_Last chance._

He moved his body, trying to pull away and escape this nightmare, but his skin burned and charred instantly. The last echoes of pain.

* * *

Shawn shook as he saw his friend twisting and turning in pain. He grabbed his friend's shoulder and managed to wake him after a few whimpering moments.

"Hunter?" Shawn whispered.

Triple H's eyes opened and managed to look around the dark room, seeing everything in perfect order. He looked at Shawn, breathing deeply, feeling confused yet relieved to have escaped from the nightmare.

"Hunter, are you okay?" Shawn asked, his voice trembling.

"Why are you here?" Triple H wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His mouth felt numb.

"You said I could stay here, remember? You and I cleaned up all the water in the bathroom and you-" Shawn paused when he saw the look in his friend's eyes. He sighed and looked at the ground, feeling uneasy. "I thought you knew."

Triple H looked at Shawn while managing to sit up in bed and cut on the lamp, saying, "Knew what?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

"No, I don't," Triple H sighed. His eyes felt heavy as his mouth continued to feel numb. "Just tell me what the hell's going on."

"I was dead to you, remember? When I was down and out? No one to turn to. No one to talk to. Just me and my personal Hell," Shawn winced and continued, "I thought you were just out-of-town or something, but you were here the whole time."

"Shawn-"

"Hunter," Shawn put a hand on his friend's leg, his eyes uneasy. "I'm sorry for that pain I caused you."

Triple H looked at Shawn, shaking his head. "Shawn, you nearly went insane when that happened to you. You didn't respond to me and lived in your own world with your own obsessions. He possessed you and you became obsessed."

"Still," Shawn looked down. "I can't bear to see the same thing happen to you."

"It's not, Shawn, it's not even serious. He approached me this time around."

"And last time?"

"I know what he's capable of, Shawn. Stop worrying about me."

Shawn nodded his head, breathing deeply, and stood up, walking over to the other bed and laying down in it. Triple H watched his friend do this, frowning when Shawn turned his back to him, leaving both their words lingering. Triple H turned off the light and covered his head with the blankets, cussing under his breath at the thought of the conversations. Closing his eyes, Triple H managed to fall asleep quickly.

Shawn looked at his surrounding before finally closing his eyes, breathing deeply as he tried to erase memories that buried deep in his mind. The world around him stood still, his obsession a nightmare he wanted to escape. Thank God he managed to do that otherwise..._him_.

_It's Hell getting back to Heaven, isn't it?_

Shawn gulped and tried to open his eyes, but they wouldn't budge and he remained looking at the ghost figure looking at him.

_Your soul was mine, Michaels. Now it's his turn._

"You can't do this." Shawn whispered, his eyes tight.

_It shall be the end. Give me what I want._

Shawn shuddered and tried to open his eyes. He felt his body shaking and his heart thumping in his chest.

He whispered, "W-What do you want?"

_Vengeance will be mine._

With that, he was gone.

Shawn opened his eyes quick and whimpered from what he saw. He panted deeply as he managed to look over at Triple H, asleep in his own bed. Shawn sighed and looked up at the ceiling, noticing the light in the room. He looked at the window. It hung open as the full moon disappeared behind the thin clouds.

**Stay Tuned. More Will Be On The Way Soon.**


End file.
